The end
by Underworld's Rules
Summary: Nothing is the same after the war, and everyone knows. Watch as Gregor never forgets about the Underland, about how he feels like a stranger in his own world, and about how it all ends. T because it's confusing and death.


**I've been wanting to post a one shoot about the Underland, because I think one shoots were created for either the shiniest hapinnes or the deepest sorrow and desperation.**

**And this fandom has lots of potential for the sorrow kind.**

**DISCLAIMER: I, Underworld's rules, own nothing, as always. When are we getting the plot twist?**

* * *

He lies down, staring at the white ceiling, trying to decipher why he should be condemned to this living hell that is his life.

He sits on the bench at the park, watching her sisters ran around, wondering how long he is supposed to put up with this without breaking down.

He stays awake at night, crying and sobbing like there's no tomorrow, because he isn't totally sure there is.

* * *

He doesn't care of he's failing at school, or if he's family is worried about him, or if they finally decided to move to Virginia.

No, he definitely doesn't.

He just cares about a world under the ground, a world that's so impressive and intimidating and beautiful and different, all at the same time, and he just can't bring himself to care about anything that doesn't involve that mysterious world.

* * *

He's walking along the beach, and he sits down to think about what his life has become. A mess, that's what it is. It's a damn mess.

As the waves caress his feet with its rough, salty, yet careful touch, he decides he doesn't fit in here.

He doesn't belong with the waves, the country, or the warm and sunny weather here in Virginia.

No, he belongs to a dark world where giant animals can talk and humans are sickly pale and old-fashioned. He belongs to a world deep buried under the surface.

He belongs to the Underland.

* * *

No matter how many girls flirt with him, he's not interested in any of them. They're swallow, he can tell, and stupid and selfish, and they wouldn't give two shits if their family and friends were in danger.

They're plastic, empty-headed dolls.

He can't love a doll. He needs to love someone who lives; someone who's like a breath of fresh air in the middle of the summer, but at the same time can act like at tornado, destroying everything within her radio when she's absolutely furious and mad.

He needs a warrior queen. He's _in love_ with a warrior queen.

She's just away from his reach.

* * *

That night, he dreams about purple eyes, about wars, about dying bonds and about a kiss that could have changed everything.

He doesn't know if he should call them nightmares, instead.

But, as he touches his lips ever so lightly, he knows that he would never dare think of that kiss as anything but a dream.

* * *

His family is worried, and he knows. There's nothing he can do to change that, and they know.

So they just go on with their lives, trying to cope with the pain and acting like nothing is wrong with them.

No one wants to reopen old wounds.

* * *

It's his seventeen birthday, and all he wants to do is lie down at the beach, counting the clouds and hearing the waves.

But his family holds a small party at their house, and his sister's friends are invited, as well as their neighbours, and some people he doesn't recognize from school.

He isn't obliged to have fun at his crappy birthday party.

It's just to keep up the appearances.

* * *

When he attended at his grandmother's funeral, he felt like History was repeating itself.

Another funeral. Been there, done that. It hurt, of course it hurt, because now the only person that understood him up there was gone, and he couldn't bear another death.

So he escaped that night. The walls of his room started closing in on him, and it was suddenly too hard to breathe.

But he came back. He couldn't leave his family.

Not yet.

* * *

"Why don't you go out with your sisters?" His mother asked him kindly one day.

He didn't say anything. He just stood up and locked himself in his room. He couldn't allow people to see his wounds. Then, why did his mother insist on it?

He tried to ignore the part of his brain that told him it was because his mother was worried about him.

* * *

He knows he's going to miss them. But his place isn't here, where people send frightened glances in his direction and they quickly try to act like nothing happened when he looks at them.

He could never fit in.

Not with his scars, his nightmares, his past and his losses. He's just… different.

He's a monster.

* * *

He doesn't know what's happening, but suddenly all he sees is red and black and pain and solitude and they don't leave his mind and it's killing him, but there's nothing he can do, so he just breathes, trying to struggle, although he already knows it's no use.

The colors are chocking him and he feels cold and hot, he feels like he's an ice statue and like he's on fire; he feels liquid running down his arms and a desert in his throat.

He feels like he's in the center of a hurricane of emotions, like he's swimming in a sea of feelings, like he's flying in his thoughts.

He thinks about his parents, his sisters, his grandma, Luxa, the Underland, New York, Virginia, his school mates, Larry and Angelina, the stone knight and everyone else. He sees the light and he sees the darkness; he whimpers, he grins, he dies and he lives.

And then, nothing.

* * *

Before he exhales his last breath, he thanks whoever is up there for letting him have a moment of peace before his end.

* * *

**I wrote it when I was sick and everything was confusing to me, so yeah. Sorry if it's confusing.**


End file.
